


Miracle: Life Reset Button

by orphan_account



Series: Clockwork Wordplay [1]
Category: Evillious Chronicles, Pandora Voxx
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, also heavily undertale inspired, remember this au project? yeho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many years will it go on, trapped in this eternal Neverland?</p>
<p>Six trillion, five hundred thirty million, one hundred twenty-four thousand, seven hundred and ten.</p>
<p>“Again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miracle: Life Reset Button

 

There was only one place in the entire Evillious where one could see the stars shine bright in the clear night skies, unmarred by the lights of the cities and towns that dotted the region. Here, the breeze whistled playfully through the branches of dense greenery, dancing amongst the flowers and singing in ripples across the lake’s surface.

The great millennium tree, with leaves spreading through the air like veins of emerald, rhythmically creaked in the wind, as if stretching old, weary limbs, ready to settle down for the day.

Here, where the grandeur of nature came together in a capricious, dissonant yet gentle and kind symphony that resounded with a three-beat, lullaby-like melody, a lone woman knelt by the edge of the lake’s waters, eyes closed in thought and hands clasped together, as if in prayer.

And then, war.

Fire spread through the greenery, ravenous and starved, greedily gulping down everything in its way without regard as to what or whom it devoured. Soldiers shouted, innocent bystanders screamed, all clamoured to be heard in the din of chaos and dissonance.

She had made a mistake.

If she had pushed harder, realized her incompetence and properly sealed off all the vessels before the demon could take hold and grow roots in the heart of the Princess, blooming into a flower surrounded by thorns. Perhaps, all this could have been prevented.

Blood spilt, stained the ground with a rotten, diseased red, and even the great millennium tree was not spared from the wrath of the scorned sinner, greedy pride turned to envious despair. The country of green cried out in misery, once-peaceful land torn asunder by the wishes of a selfish, lonely princess.

“Elluka, hurry! We have to leave this place!”

The cries of a green-haired girl. Glasses turned askew, hair dishevelled and clothes marred with burn marks. Cumulonimbus gathered in the air, darkening and turning to blessed rains which fell upon the scorched earth, trying its best to heal what has been hurt.

Still, the pink-haired magi remained unmoving, hands clasped around a small cube hanging by a chain.

Her lips moved, as if whispering a wish that remained unheard.

And then,

“Again.”

* * *

Standing proud in the midst of Beelzenia was the great Conchita Mansion, looming tall against the full moon turned red against the twilight clouds.

People had already begun to whisper, to spin tales and spread rumours of the famed Vampire Girl, the Master of the Graveyard. She of the Last Supper. She whose name must not be spoken. She, the Repulsive Food Eater Girl of Beelzenia.

She who had already disappeared.

The mage moved silently through the empty hallways and abandoned rooms, ragged cloak trailing behind her like a lifeless shadow, blue eyes trained on the teal-haired girl in front, footsteps light and movements uncertain, darting around jerkily like a clockwork doll whose gears had already begun to rust.

She had made a mistake.

If she had arrived much earlier, caught the thief during her first trespassing, intercepted her nemesis’ spies from infiltrating and setting off the downward spiral into the cannibal’s Last Supper that served as a final farewell. Perhaps, it wouldn’t have ended this way.

“It seems like they’ve already escaped…?”

The teal-haired girl turned around, eyes usually full of mischief now worried and shadowed over with concern. The mage gave no response, only clasping her hands together and closing her eyes.

And then, hope.

A faint cry resounded, one that belonged to a babe. The thief’s eyes shone bright, clockwork limbs quickly scampering into unknown territory, fast enough that the mage could not keep her eyes trained on her. The sounds of motherly endearment, cooing and hushing the distressed child, a faint, three-beat lullaby slipping out from pale, pink lips.

The thief returned then, carrying a small bundle in her arms; the babe could belong to none other than the escaped Duke herself, with wide brown eyes and tousled hair that so similarly mirrored the mother’s.

“What should we do, Elluka?”

A louder cry, this time. The child grasped at something unseen, small chubby fingers only meeting the air. Try as she might, the teal-haired girl couldn’t do anything to soothe the babe’s nerves. The longing for a mother’s touch, a father’s voice had intensified in the hours they had disappeared.

Still, the pink-haired magi gave no response, hands clasped around a small cube hanging by a chain.

The corners of her eyes grew damp, as if crying for a wish that remained unfulfilled.

And then,

“Again.”

* * *

The end of the tainted fairytale. Women of all ages and backgrounds fleeing from the mansion’s walls, the spell broken and shattered into a thousand mirror shards.

Sprawled on the floor, warmth seeping out of the body as the blood flowed freely, dyed a deep violet. A pair of stolen eyes bore witness to the pitiful end of the Duke’s lunacy, brought to an abrupt conclusion by the golden blade of the man wearing a woman’s dress.

That man had already escaped, and with him the key to the perfect end. And soon, there would be a coup d’état, staged in order to defend their love. The birth of a new country.

The death of a lonely man.

Even now, she could still see the last confession of love, caught behind pale lips and a breathless gasp. The green-haired aristocrat had already left hours ago, yet amethyst eyes glittered with tears, gaze clouded over by death and despair.

Stolen eyes closed, and stolen hands clasped together as if in prayer. Stolen hair danced in the dying breeze, and stolen lips murmured a steady three-beat lullaby, the stolen voice singing a swan song that would serve as the eulogy to the cursed Duke’s funeral.

She had made a mistake.

She had made so many mistakes.

Even now, given the chance to redo all her actions and repair the diseased and rotten timelines that she left in her wake, she continued to make mistakes.

And then,

“Again.”

* * *

Red eyes watched from the shadows as the pink-haired mage raised her eyes to the sky and tore off the chain that hung around her neck, throwing it skywards. Attached to it was a small cube of light, pulsing with every colour of the rainbow and brimming with unimaginable energy, bathing her in a harsh glow.

And then, she disappeared.

Red eyes closed in thought, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

Here, within the dark, blank expanse that served as the nothingness of an area separate from the grand scheme of things, the mindscape of her shared consciousness, through her closed eyelids, she watched.

The two souls racing against each other, through time and space. Epitome of Lust, Epitome of Gluttony, Epitome of Pride, Epitome of Sloth.

And then, an abrupt stop.

The first flame flickered out into charred ashes, the second dying into pale embers shortly after.

Irina let out a cheated scream, eyes wide open as the ringing in her ears climbed to an unbearable crescendo. The thumping against her heart grew louder, more frenzied, as the malice that surrounded her with shadows slithered and convulsed against her skin, punishing her for her failure.

Right after Margarita and Elluka had…

The flame of Elluka’s wish, burning brightly and fiercely with desperate determination, sputtered and doused into wisps of smoke.

“I don’t understand! How can her dream just… vanish into nothingness like that?!”

Wincing as she cupped her hands in front of her chest, Irina slowly and painfully drew out the source of her destructive miracles, the power to grant any wish, the malice that fed on crushed hopes and dreams.

The miracle-making black box.

**_You still don’t get it?_ **

The ringing warped and warbled itself into something barely resembling words, a rotted, corrupted harmonic hiding just under the skin of that familiar voice, belonging to someone Irina couldn’t recognize, and yet someone she couldn’t forget. Those words rolled off her own tongue, spoken through her shared voice, wet and slug-like, echoing and resounding through the empty nothingness as it doubled back on itself, as though that ringing was trying, and failing, to recover the essence of the being it once was.

**_That point of time, when she and the Original Sinner combine into one._ **

**_Elluka Clockworker is no longer._ **

**_She holds on to that dream no longer._ **

**_Thus, the miracle that serves as the catalyst to her dream’s destruction is also no longer._ **

**_And that new entity’s dream is completely different altogether._ **

**_One that even I, much less you, can devour through despair._ **

**_You cannot crush one’s dream when one has no dream to speak of._ **

**_You have made a mistake._ **

The words swept through the sickly-still, noxious and syrupy-sweet air, carried about by mocking laughter and stifled smiles. The ringing shadows licked at her skin, almost gleeful in a way as Irina shuddered away from their rotten, diseased touch.

“I do not make mistakes.”

**_Oh?_ **

**_Then how are you going to fix this, hm?_ **

Red eyes closed in thought and trembling hands clasped together, as if in prayer.

Through her closed eyelids, she watched. The same two flames, chasing each other across space and time. The first one, after flickering weakly and seeming to come to an end, burst into a magnificent show of brilliant light, one that the second flame couldn’t bear to match.

And then,

The hands of time started to pull on her soul, taking her back to where Elluka had chosen to start over, another chance at a different ending…

“Again.”

* * *

The temple was a marvel in architecture and engineering, truly a sight to behold. Here was where Irina had so kindly and lovingly gave up the chance at the queen’s crown to her beloved sister-in-law. Here was where sickeningly-sweet words were exchanged, a promise of protection was made, a blade of betrayal was plunged into darkness and stained with miserable red.

She had made a mistake.

Elluka, in all her naiveté, had gladly welcomed Irina’s decision to step down from the competition with tears of gratitude. The silver fang of the knife seemed to suck out all the light from the sunset rays as it rose upwards and travelled in an arc, lancing straight into the blonde’s back.

This time, though, her choice would be genuine. Make amends with her estranged brother, gracefully decline the chance of divine motherhood, cultivate the affection Elluka held for her beloved sister-in-law.

Perhaps, then, the diseased, rotten timeline could be healed. Elluka would still have held on to her dreams, and she would be able to crush them under her heel without the aid of the malicious black cube—

But it refused.

There, once again. Rotten and diseased red, embracing a pale body, lifeless. A corpse. Golden locks. Dead blue eyes.

Irina sucked in a shuddering breath, glaring with hateful eyes at the black cube which only seemed to glow brighter at her wrath, mocking the red-eyed girl with a voiceless laugh.

**_That won’t do._ **

**_You think you can end this without me?_ **

**_Without me, your pitiful existence would have ended the same moment as hers._ **

**_You have made a mistake._ **

“I can still find a way. I will find a way.” She ground out through clenched teeth, hands tightening into white-knuckled fists by her side. “I can still win. I won’t lose!”

And then,

Once more, the hands of time pulled her soul from its mortal confines, stealing the cold, shuddering breath from her lungs as she was cast into the distant past, another try at a better ending.

“Again.”

* * *

Nobody had died yet. Though the weight of the demise game hung heavy in their minds, none of the four candidates had given in to temptation and caved in to their demonic desires just yet.

She had made a mistake.

Milky and Ly were nothing more than stepping stones in her quest for perfection. Just a little push, just a little pull. Much easier to deal with, when it was what everyone expected. No such thing as teamwork and cooperation in a duel to the death such as this, not when they were fighting for the right of divine motherhood and the throne.

This time, though, she would wait until someone else made the first move. Protect Elluka, only strike back as a form of self-defense, don’t be killed and don’t kill unless it’s the only way out.

Perhaps then, the wounded, bleeding timeline would be healed. Elluka would look to her for advice. Should they continue with the bloodshed, or should one of them peacefully forfeit the prize? She would make a promise to protect her, no matter what, and the strained relationship would be restored, an end to her troubles without the black cube’s whispers—

But it refused.

There, once again. Rotten and diseased red, embracing a pale body, lifeless. A corpse. Golden locks. Dead blue eyes. An accusing stare. Lips open, just slightly. As if laughing. Mocking. I win. You lose.

This time she breathed in as if resurfacing from a dive into freezing ice and viscous dark. The cube floated patiently in front of her shivering body, taunting her with a glow that gave off no warmth.

**_What now?_ **

**_Another reset? Another try? Another failure?_ **

**_She’s already lived through, what, six trillion years?_ **

**_And so have you._ **

**_Give it up._ **

**_Your existence is nothing without my power to fuel your hatred._ **

**_Your existence is meaningless._ **

“I can’t accept this.” Her voice had already begun to crack and shatter, thin and wispy and pathetic, nothing like her previous roaring screams filled with malice. “I won’t accept this.”

And then,

There it was. Though the paths between bubbles of time were rendered twisting and fraught with false, dead ends, Irina followed that brilliant flame, that strong wish desiring for the perfect ending, that infinitely bright soul dying and relighting a trillion times over in its endless quest for Utopia.

Elluka’s dream.

The brief feeling of being torn out of existence, the brief, empty, cacophonous feeling of nothing at all.

“Again.”

* * *

Blue eyes fluttered open, blinking as the overbright world abruptly came into focus.

The familiar feeling of a worn, wooden table surface met her tired hands. Elluka breathed in a shuddering breath; where, or… when had she returned to, this time?

Her brow creased as she tried to recall, tried to reach for the wavering memories that playfully danced just a hair’s breadth away from her reach. The life reset button had already started to take its toll; her recollections were all but fractured and disjointed, taken apart and hastily put together with feeble strings and false memories.

That had been the price agreed on.

Elluka sighed and gently massaged her scalp as she thought back to when the miracle had first made itself known. When they had arrived at Toragay, only to be met with the tail end of Margarita’s rampage. She had cursed herself, then, for arriving just moments too late.

And then, she appeared.

The real Julia Abelard –not the falsity heralding herself as the mayor of Calgaround– arrived without much fanfare, having knocked on the door of the room they had rented and allowed herself in without a word of agreement from the two travelling mages.

And then, she revealed her true name.

What happened next was a blur. The memories holding that scene in time were among the first to go, intent on keeping Elluka in the dark as to how her sister-in-law had managed to take hold of such a terrible power and, more importantly, why she was using it to help her hated nemesis.

And then, that thought.

“I need to do it all over again.”

But as time relentlessly ticked on and on, and her resets started getting more and more inaccurate, bringing her back to moments in time not just seconds, or minutes, but hours, even days too late, more and more, Elluka felt that the true end was slipping away from her grasp.

And as the sound of an unseen clock’s ticking buzzed away in her ears like static, more and more, Elluka felt like she finally realised the truth, of the true way to achieve that ending everyone desired, that ending where everyone was happy.

How many years has it been, in this utterly pointless life?

Six trillion, five hundred thirty million, one hundred twenty-four th—

The scrape of her fingernails against paper jolted her from her thoughts.

Elluka looked down, a thin smile creasing her lips as blue eyes met white paper; the letter informing her of her inauguration as a candidate of Project Ma.

Perfect timing, then.

Before the other’s deaths, before Irina’s unwilling betrayal, before Kiril’s act of lunacy, before despair…

She made a choice.

No more resets.

No more mistakes.

No more useless wishes.

No more hopeless dreams.

It was time to end everyone’s misery, once and for all.

* * *

She rose from her seat, noticing with an air of melancholy at the all-too-familiar surroundings of Kiril’s antiques shop. The ticking in her ears gradually faded away, replaced by the ticking of numerous clocks and gears that made up the mechanisms of many odds and ends decorating the simple room.

Searching her tired mind for the ingredients to her answer, Elluka laughed in relief, a long, low chuckle, as she successfully managed to recall the one thing that would serve as her final farewell.

Saying to no one in particular, Elluka let her eyes roam through the shop’s interior before walking out and shutting the door behind her, the spoken words barely making themselves heard through the stale air, nothing more than a faint memory, already gone.

“…I’ll go get the flowers.”

…

The dream shattered into a trillion pieces.

It did not refuse.

* * *

Irina breathed a sigh of relief as she finally exited the spatial tunnel and came crashing down into time, glad for the ground beneath her feet to anchor herself in that moment.

Familiar sights met her eyes, and indeed, there was Kiril’s antiques shop, and the sun shone high up overhead, ready to cross the sky’s meridian.

Back to distant past again, it seemed.

She brought a hand to her temple, closed her eyes and focused. The black box sharing her consciousness woke from its slumber, regarding her with a displeased hum that resounded against the walls of her mind and crashed back upon her thoughts, echoing and forming words from wordless malice, dripping off her own tongue and escaping her lips like a puff of smoke and ashes.

**_Before your betrayal. Before despair. This is that moment in time._ **

“When Elluka and I received our letters, then.” Irina hummed in response, lowering her hand and letting her eyes flutter open. “Why did she choose to return to now, of all times?”

The cube remained silent.

“Well?”

**_…it seems, she has found her own answer, one that even I had not prepared for._ **

**_I have made a mistake._ **

**_The dream’s conclusion, I did not think it would arrive this way, but—_ **

A bloodcurdling scream.

Irina’s eyes widened. That was Kiril’s voice. Picking up her fatigued limbs, she forced herself to stumble against the shop’s wooden door, knocking it open with a painful shove.

Red eyes met a terrible sight.

There, Kiril. Gently embracing a pale body, lifeless. A corpse. Golden locks. Dead blue eyes.

I still win.

You still lose.

Elluka was dead.

Again.

* * *

Irina didn’t know what to think. Amongst all of Elluka’s deaths, this one was the worst. It didn’t even need Irina’s input to have it all come falling, crumbling down; Elluka had seemingly made her own choice, and brought things into her own hands.

Kiril’s wail grew louder, a shaking hand reaching out to the catatonic Irina. Seeking comfort. Reassurance. Please, please, don’t leave.

Irina allowed herself to move closer, let her frail form be embraced by the tearful artisan. She gazed blankly at Elluka’s unmoving body, a multitude of complex emotions passing over her face like cumulonimbus, none too happy to see each other.

Then, a letter fluttered down from Elluka’s hands. Her tightly clutching fingers had loosened, the final embers of her soul extinguished by death.

Irina knelt down, Kiril’s grasp slipping away from where he had intertwined his fingers with hers. Slowly, she picked up the letter with trembling hands, eyes watering painfully as she recognized the loopy, cursive handwriting that adorned the envelope.

To Kiril and Irina.

“Do you…?” Irina offered with the softest voice she could muster, holding out the envelope so that Kiril could see it. The brown-haired man shook his head, clutching Elluka’s cold hand harder. Not yet. Not now. Not when he still had to grieve. Not when the tears were still falling freely.

The red-eyed girl nodded in understanding. Taking the letter with her, she rose from the floor and walked out the door, taking care to shut it tight behind her. The windchimes by the door danced in the non-existent breeze.

Throughout all that, the black box had remained silent.

* * *

Breathing out a shuddering sigh, Irina squared her shoulders and opened the envelope, revealing a single page, and a flower.

An innocent Greeonio flower.

“Damn it, Elluka…” Irina muttered under her breath, blinking rapidly to stop the unwanted tears from falling. Forcing herself to remain expressionless, she removed the white sheet of paper from its cocoon and let her eyes wander over the neat, handwritten words.

To my beloved Kiril and dearest Irina.

To the one that I love, and the one I betrayed.

I’m sorry.

This is the only way I can atone for my sins.

That perfect end.  That Utopia.

It all exists without me, right?

This is the only way I can achieve that.

That happy ending for everyone.

That true end you all deserve.

Without me.  Without my sins.

Without my imperfect dream.

I’m sorry…

This is the only way.

It has to be, right?

* * *

Her shoulders shook, eyes darting back and forth over the words, over and over again, unable to comprehend the magnitude of that moment, the unwanted reality.

**_…we had made a mistake._ **

The cube’s bleeding harmonic reverberated in her mind, harsh edges dulled only slightly by a tinge of pity. Regret. Despair.

“So, reset!” Irina barked out, eyes clouded over with conflicting emotions, most prominent of all: determination. “Take her back! Take us back! We can do it all over again!”

**_Elluka Clockworker is no longer._ **

**_She holds on to that dream no longer._ **

**_Thus, the miracle that serves as the catalyst to her dream’s destruction is also no longer._ **

“Then… what can I do?” Her voice had already begun to crack and shatter, thin and wispy and pathetic, nothing like her previous roaring scream filled with determination.

**_…there is a way._ **

**_But you will need to endure, and suffer._ **

**_Until natural death takes hold._ **

**_Then, you can meet her once more, and…_ **

“I’ll have to convince her.”

**_Reignite that flame._ **

**_Bring back what has disappeared into nothingness._ **

“…is it really the only way?”

**_Unless you desire to live out this doomed timeline._ **

**_Fade into nonexistence once all other dreams have been devoured._ **

**_Live without a significance of existence._ **

**_So…_ **

**_Will you make a wish?_ **

Red eyes closed in thought and trembling hands clasped together, as if in prayer.

And then,

She made a choice.

* * *

Time passed endlessly without meaning, in this timeless place.

Elluka had watched, as Irina read the letter, comforted her grieving brother, paid her respects to her sister-in-law’s grave. Watched, as the red-eyed girl ascended to the throne, and gave birth to twin gods, heralded as the saviour of humanity. Watched, as the kingdom prospered under her rule, peace reigned throughout the lands, guarded by the reincarnated twin gods in their human forms.

Watched, as age took hold, the ever-present hands of time plucking away those that had reached their final resting hour. One by one, they left the mortal coil, and one by one, they arrived at this timeless place, bathed in golden light and happiness and perfection.

One by one, until the Queen herself was laid to rest in her final resting place.

* * *

Elluka waited by the golden gates, listening to the golden grass dance playfully in the golden rays of the ever-present golden light hanging high above their heads. Golden locks bobbed like waves in the breeze as she finally caught sight of the one unsteadily making their way to the Heavenly Yard.

“Irina.”

The red-eyed woman raised her head, feline gaze meeting a familiar smile. Elluka noted the lines and creases that seemed to make her look much more older than she should; a byproduct of the stressful task of leading a kingdom to glory, no doubt.

“Elluka.”

Irina’s step faltered, one-two-three, and then she was on her knees in front of Elluka, limbs so heavy it felt like someone had filled her bones with lead. Elluka knelt down, emitting a stream of fretting so overbearing that even the sun’s rays seemed to pull back, casting the scene in an ashen gloom.

“Elluka…”

The golden-haired woman stopped, pulling her hands back in a gesture of anxious apology. Irina raised her gaze higher, finally letting Elluka’s blue eyes meet her own red; her heart sank as she noted the happiness, the relief, but most importantly, the complete resignation that swam in Elluka’s blue eyes, reflected in her thin smile.

Impossible to convince her, then. She would have to take matters into her own hands.

“I wish…”

“What is it?” Elluka mumbled, concerned, Irina’s words left unheard as she clasped the red-eyed girl’s hands in her own, realising with horror as the cold, clammy skin seemed to writhe and slither under her touch. “What do you wish for?”

“This ending…” Irina continued, stronger, letting a triumphant smirk grace her lips as Elluka tried, and failed to pull her hands back, the pulsing warmth emerging from their shared grasp all-too-familiar to them both. “Your memories…”

“…n-no.” A pleading cry, then. Not wanting to return to the repeating cycle. The endless resets. “Irina, please!”

The warmth flickered into existence, then burst into a trillion flames, revealing a small cube of light, pulsing with every colour of the rainbow and brimming with unimaginable energy, bathing them in a harsh glow.

“Bring them all back to zero!”

A strong wish.

~~The dream shattered into a trillion pieces.~~

…

The dream refused to disappear into nothingness.

* * *

Elluka woke up with a start.

Rubbing at her eyes, chasing away the sleep, just a dream, just a bad dream.

…

…whatever it was, it had already escaped her memory and fled into darkness unknown. Stretching her limbs, Elluka clambered out of bed, careful not the wake the snoring apprentice still huddled under the sheets, and made her way to the dresser table.

What had transpired yesterday came as an absolute surprise. The real Julia Abelard waltzing into their shared room in the inn, dismissing the impostor with a careless wave of the hand, and revealing herself to be her one and only dear sister-in-law, Irina Clockworker, intent on crushing the lonely mage’s hopes and destroying her fruitless dream of perfection. And then,

“Will you make a wish?”

What happened next was a blur. The memories holding that scene in time vanished into nothingness, taken away like stolen playing cards and leaving her mind an incomplete deck. The life reset button had already taken hold of Elluka’s memories, and for every reset she performed, a memory would be taken away to replace the new one being born.

That had been the price agreed on.

Sighing, Elluka stared into the vanity mirror, idly twirling a dyed-green lock of hair around her fingers as she sifted through her fading recollections. Just as she was about to give up and move on with the day, a warm glow caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

A small cube of light, pulsing with every colour of the rainbow and brimming with unimaginable energy, floated just out of her reach, spinning around in place as it bathed her in a gentle glow.

**_“A strong wish.”_ **

Out of nowhere, a voice slithered and writhed through the air, rotten, diseased and bleeding as it echoed off the walls and seemed to pull on her soul.

The brief feeling of being torn out of existence, the brief, empty, cacophonous feeling of nothing at all.

And then, that thought.

“I need to do it all over again.”

* * *

Red eyes watched from the shadows as the miracle box abruptly stopped its capricious dance, rising higher and higher and growing brighter and brighter until its harsh light engulfed the room, the hands of time pulling on the lonely mage’s soul and bringing her back to the distant past.

Another reset.

Another try at a better, happier ending.

Another day that the dream refused to shatter.

And then,

The two souls raced against each other, through time and space, the fate of the world entrusted to them both.

How many years will it go on, trapped in this eternal Neverland?

Six trillion, five hundred thirty million, one hundred twenty-four thousand, seven hundred and ten.

“Again.”


End file.
